


First

by iknewyoudunderstand (tylermblue)



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Probably a little OOC, The best way to get to Aaron Hotchner's heart is through his son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 19:51:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14701032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tylermblue/pseuds/iknewyoudunderstand
Summary: The first time Aaron tells Spencer he loves him is an accident.





	First

It’s when Spencer’s glowing. He’s beaming like he does when he gets the praise that he clamors for even as an accomplished field agent, a thrice certified doctor, and a quantifiable hero. He’s smiling wide like he does when someone laughs at his jokes, or when someone else receives good news, or when he sees Henry, or when someone buys him a coffee (even if it’s not the perfectly calculated amount of sugar and cream he’s gotten down to a science). It’s a smile that feels rare even when it isn’t—it’s so luminescent that it brightens the whole room.

Spencer has managed to do what Aaron had never thought anyone could do—he’s retained a sort of innocence in the face of their job where containing his emotions comes as an afterthought. It’s not that he’s not careful. With his negative emotions, he’s close-mouthed. He’s withdrawn. But Spencer feels violently and ardently: his anger is palpable and electric, his sadness clouds up the sky with rain, his fear is icy and sharp. He’s oftentimes a liability in the interrogation room. Even if it’s not a verbal concession, it’s a visible one. By extension, his positive emotions are loud and demand to be heard. He’s exuberant. He’s vivacious. And this is the smile that shows it all, lets the cause and effect be known. And the causation is coveted. 

This time? This time it’s because of Jack.

It’s not a secret that Aaron’s attempts to separate his work from his home had created a canyon between him and Haley. The passion he had for his job seemed to rival the passion he had for his family. In Haley’s eyes, this meant his love for her had waned. This meant he chose the job over her, so she chose her happiness over him. Aaron acquiesces in that decision, despite her misinterpretation of the situation. It wasn’t that she was wrong, per se. 

The reason he had been so keen to separate family and work was because he feared the collision of the two, the beauty of his American Dream forced to face the horrors of America’s Most Wanted. By not letting Haley into his work life, he had thought he was sparing her, but instead he was pushing her away.

Or...

Or maybe what pushed her away was the second family that he found. The family he’d never expected. The family he never thought he could have. One that loves, fearlessly and ferociously, instead of daintily and properly. One that actually _knows_ of the horrors of his past and, despite his fears otherwise, still declares that they would never leave him. One that coincides with his work instead of contrasting with it. Before he even noticed it, his love and compassion and empathy for his coworkers—all the beautiful, broken people he works with, who he faces down evil with every day—had taken him over. Aside from Jack, they had become _everything._

But he’s still tentative. He still hesitates when they plan events and he’s asked if he’s bringing Jack. He still considers the weekdays and the weekends wholly separate—designated _work days_ and designated _days with Jack._ It’s hard to break that habit once it has formed. It’s hard to let the two parts of his family join together.

But it’s something he wants so badly.

And Spencer… Spencer _knows_ that.

Somehow, Spencer _always knows._

Incredibly, it’s oftentimes _Spencer_ who asks whether he’s planning on bringing Jack along to their—child-appropriate—parties and gatherings. _Spencer_ is the one who asks about Jack’s schooling and what he’s interested in and what he’s reading.

 _Spencer_ is the one who comes up to him in the breakroom, early in the morning, when Aaron had thought he’d be the only one in the office for at least thirty more minutes. His hair is an uncombed disaster, his eyes ringed with purple, and a blush was spreading across his face as he asked such a curious, unexpected, wonderful question: “Would you and Jack like to go to the new exhibit opening at the zoo with me?”

Aaron’s feelings for Spencer had come upon him just like the downpour of an unforeseen storm. When at first there had been nothing, there came a smattering of droplets, and then rain fell in sheets. All of a sudden he’s enamored with every microexpression, entranced by every word, and coming perilously close to ruining the guise of a hardass boss every time Spencer is in a moderate amount of danger.

That isn’t a secret, either.

So when Aaron says, “I’d have to double-check with him, but I’m sure he’d love to.” and Spencer says, “Really?” which provokes Aaron to say, “Of course. He loves you, you know.” and Spencer lights up like a Christmas tree…

The words tumble out of his mouth.

“So do I.”

It feels like time stops for a second. The gurgling of the coffee pot is the loudest thing in the universe, second only to Aaron’s heart pounding in his ears. Spencer’s eyes go wide. He’s searching for anything, literally _anything,_ to explain that statement away. Delirium. A sudden stroke. Some cruel quip that’s desperately out of character. By the time he realizes that he can use the excuse of familial love, time has sped back up again and Spencer’s speaking.

“If this is a joke…” he says softly, and Spencer’s eyebrows are knitted together, and his teeth are worrying his bottom lip, and his eyes are darting around the room—perhaps looking for a hidden camera. There’s no discomfort on his face. There’s uncertainty, there’s a slight bit of pain, and try as he might Aaron can’t interpret that glitter in his eyes as anything but… hope.

 _Hope._ It’s what spurs him to say something—hope on his end. Hope that there _is_ hope.

“No,” Aaron says. “It’s… I understand that it’s inappropriate, but that’s… if you want to rescind your offer—”

_“No!”_

Feverishly, Spencer is pressing his chapped lips to his. It takes a second for his brain to catch up with the change in events, but when it does, he’s grabbing Spencer’s face, splaying his fingers across those cheekbones and pushing _back._

The first time Aaron tells Spencer he loves him is an accident.

The first time they kiss is _intoxicating._

When they break apart, there’s a smile on Spencer’s face that Aaron’s never seen. It’s toothy, but shy. It’s tentative, but his eyes are shining. It’s accentuated by a pinkness in his cheeks and a puffiness of his lips. It’s the most beautiful thing Aaron has ever seen.

“I didn’t sleep at all last night because I was so nervous about asking,” Spencer confesses. “I don’t think I would’ve kissed you if I hadn’t been awake for thirty-six hours.”

“Do you regret doing it?” Whether he means the asking, the all-nighter, or the kissing doesn’t really matter.

“I’ve never regretted anything _less_ in my life, Hotch.”

Aaron presses their foreheads together and he knows he’s grinning goofily, but he can’t help it. “This probably won’t ever happen at work again, you know.”

“Is it _going_ to happen again?” Spencer asks.

“I’d like it to,” Aaron says earnestly.

“Then that’s fine with me.”

The second time Aaron tells Spencer he loves him is decidedly on purpose, and Spencer answers back in kind.


End file.
